


Repayment

by VampirePaladin



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dress, F/F, Fluff, Gift Fic, farming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/pseuds/VampirePaladin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repaying for help and repaying for an insult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Repayment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Measured](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/gifts).



> Happy birthday to both Measured and Ukraine!
> 
> I wanted to write you France/Canada or at least male America/Ukraine but I had a few mental images that would just not get out of my head.

The smell of manure was the first thing she thought of when spring came around. It was a comforting smell, a reminder that life would always retake the barren fields that winter had stripped clean. Right now, Ukraine had her kitchen window wide open. She left the smell of manure mix with the smell of freshly baked bread. Deep breathes in and out made her chest heave more than was normal. She finished packing the freshly made food into the metal lunch pail. 

She left the house with the metal handle for the container hanging from her left hand. It swung back and forth slightly as she moved confidently down the path, mud quickly caking onto her boots. There was a spring in her step that could only be brought by complete and total cheerfulness. She passed around a set of apple trees. America had called the variety Golden Delicious. She just called them genghevka. On the other side of the trees were the fields of her farm. Standing there in a pair of overalls and plaid shirt was America.

“America,” she called out “I made us lunch!” In her excitement she was waving to the other woman with the hand that held the lunch pail.

America looked up from her plow, smiled, and waved back. She stopped the horse, petting it on its flank. America walked around and unhitched it from the plow, leading the equine to the fence, meeting Ukraine there. She tied it up, letting the animal take a break.

“You know you could just use the tractor,” Ukraine said.

“I like doing it this way. Besides, it makes Neil happy to work.”

“Neil?”

“The horse. His name is Neil.” America scrambled over the fence.

The two walked to a shaded spot under a tree. They sat down next to each other. Bodies may have been a little too close depending on who you asked. They unpacked the food with a few words. America ate more of the food by far. 

“Thanks for the food,” America said as she stood up, wiping her hands off on her denim clothing.

“It’s the least I can do. I’ll be able to get work done on the house with you taking care of the fields.”

“I already said not to worry about it.”

“Well,” Ukraine picked up the pail “thank you again.” She started to run back with a happy smile on her face.

She did get a lot of work done. Ukraine was able to get to repairing the roof and put more bread into the oven. A day that she expected to spend in a rush of work was now a productive day thanks to the help of another. It gave her just enough time for her special project.

Ukraine went into her craft room. It was a mess. She would have scolded Russia and Belarus if their rooms had been even half as bad in their childhoods. There were pins over here, lace hanging off the window and knitting needles stuck into a rainbow of yarn colors. In the middle of the room was a dress form. On it was an almost finished dress. The dress was gathered at the waist and sleeveless. The fabric was a simple calico print of blue flowers on white. She sewed on the buttons and a basic ribbon trim. All that was left was to see how much she needed to hem up the skirt.

That would wait until after dinner, which was a simple but delicious meal. She was glad that she had made extra for America’s considerable appetite. Desert was the type of super sweet cake that America was used to. It was met with high praises from Ukraine’s guest.

“America, there is one more thing I need your help with.”

“Okie dokie, what do you need? Dishes? Vacuuming? Beating up Russia?”

“No, no, I don’t need anything like that. I just want you to wear a dress while I finish hemming it.”

“Alright, I can do that.”

Ukraine left and returned with the dress. She handed it off to America. The teenage nation headed off into a room to change and failed to close the door. Ukraine could see movement through the open door, even though she never focused on it. Just because America had left the door open did not mean Ukraine had the right to invade her privacy.

America came out wearing the dress. It came down to her shins. Other than that it fit her perfectly. Ukraine had made the right choice about going to France for help with the measurements.

“Can you step on the stool, please?”

America put one barefoot and then the other on a sturdy wooden stool. Ukraine began to fold up the skirt to above knee length. She used the steel pins to hold it in place. She could feel America fidget with the attempt to stay still. Ukraine was used to dealing with fidgety girls. Belarus had never managed to stay still whenever Ukraine had been making dresses for her. With speed and skill Ukraine hemmed up the bottom of the dress.

“I’m all done.”

America let out a sigh as she stepped down. “At least that is over.”

“What do you think of it?”

“It isn’t really my style. It is too girly and froufrou.”

Ukraine’s eyes started to water up almost immediately. She had worked so hard on it. America always dressed so boyish, she thought the girl would have liked something girly for meetings. “I-It is for Belarus. You two are the same height.”

“I’m sorry, Ukraine. I didn’t mean it like that. Belarus will love it. This is the type of dress that she is sure to love.”

Ukraine tried to smile but it came out looking like only a harlequin’s parody of a smile. She had America get changed back into her own clothing. When Ukraine had the dress back she just stuffed it into a drawer that she rarely used. Right now, she did not want to be reminded of her failure of a gift.

The short amount of time left in America’s visit was awkward for Ukraine. America did not seem to notice that anything was wrong and carried on as if nothing had ever happened. America loaded her horse up into the trailer before she left.

Five days later Ukraine found a box waiting for her when she came to her house after a day of hard work on the farm. It was addressed to her under her human pseudonym. She brought the brown box inside. First she cleaned herself up before she was allowed to do anything. Once there was no chance of tracking dirt inside, she sat down at the kitchen table and began unwrapping the package.

She pulled away the flaps to reveal the box of a lingerie company. The lid of that box was pulled away to reveal a set of frilly undergarments. They were designed for girls that needed more support for their breasts. It was made for women like Ukraine. She had often eyed up this line of garments, but they were just too expensive for her. They fit like a dream.

Three days later and she was heading to America’s home. She was going to be helping the other nation with more domestic chores. Ukraine thought she remembered something about England making a snarky comment about the state of America’s home.

Ukraine was two steps away from America’s front door when it opened. Standing there was America, wearing the dress Ukraine made. She had of course paired it with a pair of cowgirl boots and a Stetson. It worked for America.

“Where did you get that dress?” Ukraine asked, about to cry.

“Belarus told me the truth.” Actually, it had been more like Belarus had broken into America’s house with the dress in hand and forcefully changing her at knife point before actually explaining what had happened. “I… um… I jumped to conclusions. It looks nice with the right hat and boots.”

“I’m so glad you like it,” Ukraine cried.

“D-Did you get the gift?”

Ukraine stopped crying. “You mean the lingere?”

“WHAT!? They said they would get you something that would not be dirty!”

“They? Did you ask France and Canada to pick it out?”

America just nodded to her. She was blushing, a little embarrassed by the gift that had been sent for her. 

“It’s alright. I like them.”

“You do?”

“Yes, it was very thoughtful, America,” Ukraine said comfortingly. It was for the best that America had not picked it. She did not know much about proper bra sizing.

“So what do we do first?”

Ukraine thought about it for a moment. She considered their options. “Since we are both dressed nicely, we should go out to eat first.”

“I like that plan,” America locked the door as they headed down to Ukraine’s car.

Ukraine’s back did not hurt at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I got the name of the apple breed from a report on Ukranian apple growing trends. Golden Delicious was one of the more commonly grown breeds in 2010.  
> http://www.fruit-inform.com/en/news/100165
> 
> "Froufrou" comes from "frou-frou" and means something that is fancy. It is usually refering to clothing.


End file.
